At missile speed      a country left behind
disappearing      behind the silvering

mirror’s mysterious arc      taking with it
a song that is already forgotten

this sun-bright trajectory      this fire-dance
of mercury      this scratch and serve

remediation      this skin that covers skin
that fails to recollect its nakedness

the innocents of finance are soon forgotten
their buildings demolished      their

possessions trampled underfoot      their lives
restricted      between endless miles of fence

somewhere      there is a gateway      somewhere
there is a crossing      that traverses snow-peaked

mountains      unguarded in their scenic
loveliness      their vacancy unadvertised.